


second chances

by momorikos (orphan_account)



Series: like fools [1]
Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:20:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/momorikos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Perhaps he should break the silence between them with a touch—fingertips against Alibaba’s jaw, Cassim’s palm pressed to his cheek—disregard words in favor of allowing touch and feeling to rule the empty spaces they never bridged before.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	second chances

The shimmer of departing Rukh leave glints of light shining across the sky, he can feel the warmth of the sun on his cheek, and Alibaba is crying. Words stick in his throat as memories flash back in subtle pieces.  _I should be dead_ , he thinks; but he can feel Alibaba's tear-streaked face pressed to his cheek and the hard clutch of the blond's fingers against his skin. He wants to say something biting, to tell Alibaba he's going to kill him if he keeps holding him too tightly--but his heart aches at the thought of their first words being a cold admonishment.

 _He knows_ ; the thought crosses Cassim's mind lazily, as if somehow the fact that Alibaba knows the lonely ache he's carried for all these years is unimportant--it's not. Yet, there's a relief in Alibaba knowing, of knowing before they even speak that Alibaba with his bright smile and unending warmth will already know, will already understand, will do what he can to understand the jealousy and darkness that festered and grew when they were children and encouraged and cultivated after their separation.

Perhaps he should break the silence between them with a touch--fingertips against Alibaba's jaw, Cassim's palm pressed to his cheek--disregard words in favor of allowing touch and feeling to rule the empty spaces they never bridged before. He inhales sharply. A lack of words was what started this, wasn't it, Cassim asks himself; and Alibaba's pulled away.

His eyes are wide and red and wet and Cassim wants to ask him why he's still a crybaby after all these years; but he tries to smile instead. The action feels weak, unfamiliar and unpracticed.

Cassim touches Alibaba's cheek, his fingers shake, and he almost cannot believe the warmth of the younger teen's skin. He inhales sharply--guiltily--at the subtle way Alibaba flinches away before pressing into the touch shyly, as if he's afraid he's going to wake up and shatter this quiet moment.

"Thank you," Cassim says softly; he smiles again and it almost feels natural. "Thank you," he repeats. Alibaba makes a broken sound and presses his hand to Cassim's, curls his fingers over Cassim's shaking palm and he can feel tears sliding down Alibaba's cheeks.

Alibaba is crying; but Cassim thinks he is too.


End file.
